


Sacrosanct

by peculiairyties (ItsAiryBro)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Domesticity, HQ Rarepair Week 2021, M/M, UshiKitaWeek_2021, hand holding and hand kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:22:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28558284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsAiryBro/pseuds/peculiairyties
Summary: Shinsuke helps Wakatoshi care for his hands.
Relationships: Kita Shinsuke/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 8
Kudos: 44
Collections: Kita Birthday week 2020, stories that touched me





	Sacrosanct

**Author's Note:**

> For:  
> Kita Bday Week 2020 (Day 3: Care + quote prompt: Repetition. Consistency. Care.)  
> UshiKita Week 2021 (Day 4: Domesticity)  
> HQ Rarepair week 2021 (Day 1: Domesticity)

Wakatoshi lets out a hiss of pain when the frayed edge of his nail catches on the towel and rips.

He turns on the cold water and puts his injured finger under the stream, just as Shinsuke opens the bathroom door. “What’s wrong?” he asks, brows furrowed. “You okay?”

Wakatoshi nods. “I’m okay,” he says. “I ripped my nail by accident.”

Shinsuke’s frown deepens as he steps into the bathroom. “Let me see.”

Feeling somewhat sheepish, Wakatoshi turns the faucet off and holds out his hand for Shinsuke to inspect.

“We should properly clip your nail and wrap it,” Shinsuke murmurs. He flicks his eyes upward, gaze severe. “Being busy isn’t an excuse to neglect your hands, Wakatoshi.”

Wakatoshi nods again. “I know. I was planning on doing it today, and, well.”

Shinsuke takes his hand gently between both of his own, and sighs softly. “Alright.”

-

That first time, Shinsuke had sat Wakatoshi down on the toilet seat while he sat on Wakatoshi’s lap. Wakatoshi spectated while Shinsuke neatly trimmed and filed all his nails, wrapped up the tip of his injured finger with a Band-Aid, and massaged a mild and sweet-smelling hand cream into his skin.

As Shinsuke held Wakatoshi’s hands, caressing his knuckles with gentle swipes of his thumb, Wakatoshi realized he had never felt as cherished in any other moment in his life.

Wakatoshi felt a lump form in his throat. He quietly kissed the side of Shinsuke’s neck.

“Thank you.”

-

Every Sunday morning they wake at 9 a.m. because Sundays are for sleeping in. Every Sunday morning they make breakfast in their sleepwear and eat on the couch while they watch Sunday morning TV. Every Sunday morning Shinsuke sits Wakatoshi down with his manicure kit and says,

“Wakatoshi,

Lemme have your hands.”

And Wakatoshi gives them to him.

Wakatoshi entrusts his hands—an integral, irreplaceable part of him—to Shinsuke, knowing he will care for them with the understanding of how much this means to Wakatoshi.

It means enough to make this quiet hour in their weekly routine a ceremony.

Shinsuke takes both of Wakatoshi’s hands in his, strokes his thumbs across his knuckles, kisses his fingertips as he gives Wakatoshi a small, mischievous smile, coaxing Wakatoshi into returning one of his own, warm and fond.

Then he carefully files Wakatoshi’s nails down with sure motions, wiping the file and his fingers, checking every so often to gauge his progress.

Once his nails are filed and the cuticles cleaned up, Shinsuke squeezes out a dollop of cream from a tube and massages it into Wakatoshi’s hands, getting it in between his fingers and into the crevices between his nails and skin, leaving his skin soft and smelling pleasantly citrusy-sweet. Oranges and vanilla, Shinsuke’s favourite, as Wakatoshi has learned.

Once Wakatoshi’s hands are taken care of, Shinsuke then works on his own. He repeats the motions, shaping his nails to a nice curve, clipping cuticles, applying moisturizer.

Precise. Practiced. Proper. 

Routine.

Shinsuke’s ritual. Now, Shinsuke and Wakatoshi’s ritual.

Every so often Shinsuke looks at him and smiles just a little. Every time he does, it strikes Wakatoshi how lucky he is, how lucky he has been and continues to be.

“What’cha thinkin’ about?” Shinsuke asks, and the sight of him—smiling in the pale morning light, silver hair glowing halo-like—still manages to quiet Wakatoshi with its sheer beauty, with the sheer amount of awe it inspires in him, with the sheer enormity of feelings that Wakatoshi can’t ever hope to put into words. 

“Just thinking about my fortunes. And about you.”

“Oh?” Shinsuke quirks an eyebrow, lifts one corner of his mouth. “What about me?”

“That you look like a divine being right now.”

It startles a laugh out of Shinsuke. Wakatoshi smiles.

“A divine being, huh.” Shinsuke chuckles and shakes his head as he wipes his file. “Don’t say that where Baa-chan or my siblings can hear it.”

“I know,” Wakatoshi says, and smiles wider when Shinsuke leans into him and tangles their hands—freshly manicured and soft—together.

-

Every Sunday morning they woke at 9 a.m. because Sundays were for sleeping in. Every Sunday morning they made breakfast in their sleepwear and ate on the couch while they watched Sunday morning TV. Every Sunday morning Shinsuke sat down with his manicure kit and filed his nails while Wakatoshi sat nearby, content in quiet company, the news anchor’s voice informing them of current events.

It was a routine Wakatoshi was content to observe.

-

Repetition.

Consistency.

Care.

As Wakatoshi gets to know Shinsuke better through quiet, contemplative late-night conversations about gods and aliens and the nature of fame and the technicalities of what counted as breakfast food, he develops a finer understanding and appreciation for Shinsuke and his approach toward life.

Shinsuke is a diligent worker. Shinsuke believes that the journey is as important as the destination. Shinsuke has high—but reasonable—expectations for family, friends, coworkers, things.

Shinsuke cares dearly. He loves—simply, certainly. 

Shinsuke likes to do things methodically. He loves routines, takes pleasure in the mundane, takes pleasure in making magic out of the mundane.

Wakatoshi thinks that in a way, Shinsuke’s routines are an expression of love—for himself, for the world around him.

So, Wakatoshi assumes, (hopes), that Shinsuke involving Wakatoshi in his routines is a direct, if subtle, declaration of love.

-

“Take care of your hands,” Shinsuke had said, pressing both of Wakatoshi’s hands between his. Shinsuke had pressed his small, pale, calloused palms against the backs of Wakatoshi’s large, tan hands, and held them together. Like praying. Like protecting. Like Wakatoshi’s hands were precious. Shinsuke’s eyes were amber in the soft morning light, framed by silver lashes that seemed translucent. Shinsuke’s lips were pink, wet—lip balm. Shinsuke’s face— 

And, spellbound, Wakatoshi had replied, “Would you help me?”

Shinsuke had blinked once, then his lips curled and pleasure crinkled the corners of his eyes. No longer ethereal—just Shinsuke, the methodical, loving, careful entirety of him, the lovely man that held Wakatoshi’s heart just as surely as he held Wakatoshi’s hands.

“I can’t refuse a request like that now, can I?”

-

  
Art by [Bentomi7](https://twitter.com/bentomi7)

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it!! I appreciate comments and kudos very much.


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